


The Quest for the Holy Clex Fic

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-04
Updated: 2005-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 09:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/354843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you mix Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Smallville, and a sleep-deprived hyper-caffienated author? Parody fic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quest for the Holy Clex Fic

## The Quest for the Holy Clex Fic

by Talia

[]()

* * *

Title: The Quest for the Holy Clex Fic  
Author: Talia  
Disclaimer: No, I don't own Smallville, Monty Python, Eliza Dushku, or any of the authors listed here. I do, however, hope that they have a really good sense of humor and decide not to kill me in my sleep.  
Rating: PG-13, for cursing and dirty dirty thoughts about certain innocent farm boys.  
Spoilers: Minor ones for up through 3.1, specifically Red and Exile. That is, if you can understand it enough to pick them out. Pairing: Clark/Lex implied  
Comments: Don't expect this to make sense. Just _roll_ with it. Also? Not my fault. Really. Not. My. Fault. Blame Fox1013 for being a really bad influence while I was desperately trying to procrastinate. Yeah, this came about as an AIM conversation almost two years ago during exam time. It took until now for me to convert it slightly into story form. Many thanks to Fox for nearly pulling something laughing while I wrote this on AIM, and to all of the people written about in here for existing. 

Chloe's used to having strange days. Abnormal days, if you will. She figures having a normal day may actually cause her permanent brain damage. Still, when Chloe answered the knock on her door, only to find two women on the other side dressed in what looked like hand-me-down knight suits, it was enough to give her pause. 

While she was gaping, one of them spoke, "Brave sir...ma'am...ma'amsir knight! I am Sir Clexahad, and this is Sir Slashalot. We are on the Quest for the Holy Lex Fic. Do you have the strength and fortitude to follow us and stay true in the face of bad writing and almost certain death?" 

Somewhere behind them someone who looked suspiciously like Jack Sparrow said, "I thought that was my line," before quickly running away like a girl as a monkey came chasing after him. He disappeared from sight, screaming, "No, bad monkey. Not the hair!" 

Chloe decided then and there she should probably start self-medicating soon. Reporter instincts first, though, as she asked, "What the hell are you talking about?" 

The one on the left, Sir Slashalot, said, "The Quest for the Holy Lex!fic. Preferably involving Clark." 

What? "In what way involving Clark?" 

Sir Slashalot stared at Chloe like she's sprouted a second head. Considering the last five minutes that was entirely possible. "In the....um...friendly way." 

Sir Clexahad snickered before mumbling, "Yeah, they're friends. Friends like a fox. A Big. Gay. Fox." 

Chloe was pretty sure this was delusional concussion land, and tried to figure out when exactly she got hit on the head last. However, she was flexible. She'd roll with it. "Alright, I'll join you, but only because there's no way in hell I would pass up the opportunity to get Wall of Weird coverage like this." She stared at the pair in front of her for a moment before adding, "But I won't wear the helmet. It'll ruin my jaunty hair." 

And off they went on their Quest. Well, that is after Chloe double checked to make sure she had a fresh set of batteries and a new memory stick in her camera. They were walking down the street when all of a sudden Sir Clexahad, Sir Slashalot, and Sir Hasn't-found-a-cool-knight-name-yet (formerly known as Chloe) heard the sound of horse hooves accompanying them on their trip down the road. 

Sir Long-Name-I-Won't-Repeat turned around in time to see Pete, five foot tall bag on his back, trotting behind them, banging together two coconuts. She had to ask. 

"Pete, what are you doing?" 

He beamed. "I'm your loyal servant in this journey!" 

There was a meaningful pause. 

He continued, "I carry around your extraneous plot devices and make sound effects for your imaginary horses." 

Another meaningful pause. 

"They said to call me Patsy." 

"Patsy?" 

Pete shrugged, "Yeah, apparently it's-" 

Suddenly the heathen gods realized that Pete had exceeded his three line an episode maximum and smote him. And there was much rejoicing. 

"Yaaaay." 

"Great. Now who will carry our extraneous plot devices?" said Sir Damnit-just-call-her-Chloe, taking several digital pictures of the pile of ashes that had once been Pete. 

Sir Slashalot turned and started at Chloe before saying, "It's Smallville. What plot?" 

Chloe shrugged and agreed and they set off. 

As the three walked down the middle of the road, slowly behind them there came the sound of music. Soon there were words. "They are the brave Slashers, brave Slashers three. They will not be cut down by censorship or modesty. They could get their eyes gouged out, their fingers cut off, their toes stomped on, their muses slaughtered, and yet they would never scream somebody **SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE** **MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"**

The trio whipped around to see Remy Zero, all dressed in minstrels clothes, complete with the silly tights and froofy skirts, frolicking down the lane toward them. They stood in shock for a minute until Chloe mumbled "....fucking hate that song," under her breath. 

Sir Clexahad looked up at the sky and asked, "Alright, who sent the minstrels?" 

Meanwhile, the author sat in front of her computer, snickering evilly. 

Right then, moving on. 

The three came into Smallville town proper, Sir Clexahad and Sir Slashalot clopping merrily along while Chloe walked beside them, alternating between taking pictures of their actions, and mumbling notes into a tape recorder. 

Suddenly they were stopped in the middle of the road by a man dressed in head-to-toe black armor. Note you, it was sleek and stylish armor, fitted exactly to parameters and shined until the craftsman bled. Upon closer inspection the armor sported an Armani label. 

That's right, it was Lionel: The Corporate Black Night. 

"None shall pass!," he cried, quickly adding, "without paying a hefty toll, forfeiting their souls, and commenting on how great my hair looks." 

"Brave Sir Night," started Sir Slashalot, "you seem to have the courage and fortitude to follow-"  
"MY LINE!" "-er, to join us in the Quest for the Holy Lex fic. Come, stand by our side in your spiffy getup." 

"None shall pass!" he shouted, before mumbling, "I'm the prettier Luthor, damnit." 

Sir Slashalot nodded and said, "In that case, sir, please step aside and we shall continue on our way." 

"None shall pass." 

Sir Slashalot sighed, "Sir, do not make me go medieval on your ass." 

"None shall-" 

"That's it," said Sir Slashalot as she pulled out her laptop. 

"Where the hell did she get that from?" asked Chloe. 

"Don't ask," replied Sir Clexahad. 

With a stroke of keys the earth began to shift and all of a sudden a hand reached up through a crack in the ground. The hand was followed by an arm, followed by a head, was followed by an entire body, and as it stood all could see that it was Eliza Dushku. 

"Damn, B, why do you always have to make my entrances so dramatic?" Sir Slashalot would have replied, but she was busy drooling. 

"At least next time, could I wear something other than a schoolgirl kilt and a wife beater? Gravel chafes." 

The sound of drool hitting the ground was heard. 

"Right, who do I have to kill?" asked Eliza. 

"None shall pass!" 

Eliza turned around to face Lionel, ready to kill. However, before she could attack, the sun reflected off her waves of hair and Lionel. Blinded by the beauty and shininess of it, as well as being pissed that it looked better than his did, shrieked like a little girl and ran into the waiting limo where Dominic was waiting with a can of WD-40 and a hairbrush for his master...I mean his employer. Yeah. 

Eliza shrugged and joined the group. They then asked her if she wanted to join them in their quest for the Holy Lex fic. There was a minute's pause as she stared into the distance, seemingly lost in her memories. 

"Eliza?" asked Sir Clexahad. 

Eliza shook her head, "Sorry, fond memories. Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Lex, huh. Good times. Anyway, yeah, I'll join you." 

Soon they were off again. Along the way they met up with Sir DiedInTheFirstSeason, Sir Doesn'tSpeakEnglish. SirBetaReader, and Sir NotAppearingInThisFic. They traversed the streets of Smallville in their quest. Along the way Eliza got sick of Remy Zero playing that damn song over and over and over and killed the entire band. And there was much rejoicing. 

"Yaaaay." 

Then, as many nights and days and days and nights and intermediate afternoons that the author will forget for the sake of plot (what plot?) forwarding past, they came upon a strange sight... 

Thunder crackled in the sky as a solitary person stood in the middle of the street. Everywhere she pointed something exploded. She finally turned to the group of travelers. After a pause she said, "Some call me....Te." 

"But you can call me...Te." 

She then began a stunning show. Everywhere she pointed, with a bang, two men began to take their clothes off and have sex with one another. After several rounds of this the group, stunned by the display, responded with a communal "guh." 

"Brave Sir Te," said Sir Clexahad, "we come seeking-" 

"I know what you seek. You seek the Cleeeeeeeex!" Several more explosions, followed by naked man!sex happened. 

"Well, actually we were just looking for the Lex." 

Te paused in her porning long enough to tilt her head and say, "Just the Lex? Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" 

Sir Clexahad shrugged and said, "It's a Rosenbaum thing. Damn that upper lip..." 

"Enough!" Replied Te. "I will take you to the Clex." "But what about the Le-" "I will TAKE YOU TO THE CLEX." 

"Oh, okay." 

"But be warned, the way to the Clex is a difficult one, and those who do not have the courage and fortitude to follow-" "My. LINE." "-right, sorry. Pansies, turn pack! For the path is dangerous and those who are not strong enough will die painfully and horribly at the hands of bad French accents and vicious, pointy teeth!" 

"What an eccentric performance," whispered Chloe. 

And thus, Te began to lead this troupe of eccentric metal- or kilt-clad - soldiers...and Chloe...through the wilderness. They climbed painfully up the Pass of Caradhras, faced the long dark of Moria where they nearly lost Chloe to the Balrog- 

"Hey! I was only trying to get an interview from it and a few decent pictures for the Torch. It's not my fault that he got impatient, the lighting is hell down there." 

-they fought over who had prettier hair in Lothlorien. (Galadrial won over Faith, but only by a smidgen, and only because of that whole all-powerful elf-witch thing.) They separated in Parth Galen, took a short break for new filming to be added, then continued on through the Dead Marshes to the great walls of Morrrrrdorrrrr. I mean, the Talon. 

Hey, the dingy bell on the Talon's front door can be creepy, alright? 

There Te stopped them, saying, "Go no further! Straight ahead lies the greatest challenge of them all. A man eating she-beast of proportions and evils so horrid that even bad fic writers dare not speak of it. Careful, here it comes!" 

They all stood, frozen as the kitchen door of the Talon slowly swung open to reaveal... 

Lana. 

"Lana?" asked Chloe, "That's it? That's the almighty, scary thing we're supposed to battle so we can find out where the Clex is?" 

Lana primly sat down in a booth with a plate of chicken wings and began to daintily eat them. 

"THAT's the evil deadly thing? I soiled my pants for that!" said Sir DiedInTheFirstSeason. 

"But she's...and the...but...the pink...and...look at the _bones!_ " 

And indeed, there were bones. A stack of chicken bones from the wings that Lana had gnawed on already. 

"Damnit, let's just get this over with," said Sir DiedInTheFirstSeason, heading towards Lana before Te could hold him back. He approached, sword raised, prepared for attack. Before he could strike, Lana looked up at him with wet eyes and said, "Whitney. _sigh_ You died. They all died. Did I tell you that my parents died?" 

With that Sir DiedInTheFirstSeason screamed a blood-curdling scream and stabbed himself in the eye with the nearest fork before falling to the ground dead. 

"Damn," said Sir Slashalot, "she's good." 

With that Sir Clexahad raised her sword and shouted, "attack!" 

All of the knights began to run forward. As each one approaced, Lana turned her pitiful eyes towards them, saying things like, "They left me. They always leave me. My parents started it," "I'm tired of being the fair princess. Do you think I can be more?", "Does this shad of pink look good?", and the ever-deadly, "I'm not sure about my feelings for Clark. I know he loves me, it's just..." 

Sir Doesn'tSpeakEnglish cried out a plaintive "Willingski!" before jamming his head in the cash register. Sir BetaReader drowned in a nearby cappuccino and Sir Clexahad, sensing trouble, screamed "Run away!" 

The rest of them retreated behind the counter to formulate a plan of attack. Sir Slashalot began by suggesting that they throw pointy objects at her, Eliza recommended they just let her stake the bitch before she could speak, Sir Clexahad started by suggesting that if they built a giant wooden badger... Meanwhile, Chloe was scribbling furiously next to them, giddy with the fact that she now had a story good enough to sell to any nationwide newspaper, when she mumbled, "or you could just tell her Clark is gay." 

There was a pause while everyone marveled at the genius of that idea. Sir Clexahad broke out the Clex poster she had been working on for several months, Sir Slashalot began to draw a giant rainbow on taped together napkins, while Eliza created informational, and anatomically correct, stick figures. Then, on the count of one, two, five, they ran around and tape the posters everywhere. Te then jumped up on the counter and, with a magic more potent than any other, created a 3-D manip of Clark and Lex having sexy by the cash register. It was beautiful. Like the Holy Grail, only with a lot more sex. 

Lana proceeded to die of shock. And there was much rejoicing. 

"Yaaaay." 

With that the survivors stepped forward and looked down on the cover of Lana's notebook. It was covered with heart-shaped scrawls and references to Edward Gory's tales. It was indecipherable. All was lost. That is, until Chloe stepped forward and said, "Give it to me. I speak teen." 

Chloe read, "Here are the last words of Lana Lang....blah blah, maudlin, blah blah, death, oh! Here it is: If you seek the Holy Clex, you will find it in the Castle of Luuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhh." 

"The Castle of Luuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh?" 

"That's what is says. 'If you seek the Holy Clex, you will find it in the Castle of Luuuuuuuuuughhhhhhh." 

"What the hell kind of a castle is the Castle o Leh?" 

"Not Leh, Luuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh. Luuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhh. You have to get that guttural moan out." 

There was a snicker. "Don't worry, B. I've got the guttural moaning thing down. My point is, what the hell castle is she talking about?" 

Sir Slashalot laughed. "It's obvious. Luthor Manor." 

"Because that sounds like the Castle of Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?" 

"Do you know any other castles around here?" 

"..." 

"Thought not. Come one, let's go." 

__**brief intermission for a musical number, featuring Metallica and a commercial for Red!Clark. See him flex his muscles! Watch him destroy twenty shirts in under five seconds! See how low his pants ride! Look at his pretty mouth and just-been-fucked hair and be amazed by such phrases as "Clark Kent and Lex Luthor? I like the sound of that." Only nine-ninety five. Currently on massive back-order. __ __

Meanwhile... 

The brave group, sans-Te by some evil plot-bunny of doom, now stood before a bridge in the middle of a field. Beyond them was a lake, and in the misty distance beyond that stood the Luthor Manor. Behind them and on all sides were the snow-capped mountains they had to forge their way though in order to get here. After all, it is Kansas. 

In front of them stood a man, bent over, wearing tattered rags, and keeping himself upright by a pitch-fork. Despite his horrific appearance, the first word that came to any of their minds to describe him was Bo. Bo Kent. 

As Eliza stepped forward in order to cross the bridge, he began to speak. 

"Answer me these questions three, so the other side you may see." He paused, and took in Eliza's now tattered school-girl skirt and beater, before mumbling, "But don't take Clark's virginity." 

Behind them Sir Clexahad snickered and said, "too late." 

"Ask me the damn questions, Bo. I don't have all day. Things to see, people to do." 

There was a momentary pause for Sir Slashalot to recollect herself after she hit the ground, begging God for small favors. 

Bo began to ask. "What....is your name?" "Your mom." "What....is your quest?" "Your mom." "What...is your favorite sexual position?" 

Eliza smirked before leaning forward and whispering it in his ear. Five minutes later, she was done describing it, and he was done writing it down for later use. "You may pass." 

Sir PlotDevice smirked and said, "That doesn't look so hard." He then approached. 

"Answer me these questions three, so the other side you may see," said Bo. 

"Ask away, creepy old guy, I am not afraid." 

"What is your name?" "Sir PlotDevice." "What is your quest?" "To seek the Holy Clex." "...say again?" "Holy Clex. It's when-" "I know! Just. Gaah. Where was I? Oh...what is the average amount of WD-40 necessary to properly grease a tractor engine?" 

"What? I don't know thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Sir PlotDevice screamed as he was shot into the fiery chasm below. 

"Oh hell," said Sir SecondaryCharacterNotNecessaryUntilNow, right before all of our favorite main characters pushed him forward to answer the questions of death. 

"What is your name?" "Sir SecondaryCharacter?" "What is your quest?" "To seek the Holy Clex?" "What...is your favorite sexual position?" "Erm...I don't know. I'm a  
virgaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" and he fell into the chasm. 

"And he called himself a fic writer," scoffed Sir Slashalot. 

Then the three remaining knights forged their way forward, all going towards the bridge at once to answer the deadly questions. 

"What is your name?" "Sir Clexahad." "What is your quest?" "To see the Holy Clex." "What...is the average blade width on a standard-issue, low-range wood chipper, pre-Clark-angst?" 

"Caterpillar or John Deere?" 

"I don't knoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" and Bo kent was lost to the fiery chasm below. 

Darn. 

The three brave souls ventured to the other side where they saw Eliza handcuffing a cop to his car, saying something too dirty to be repeated here. 

They eventually pried her off the frightened plot-device cop. But not before Chloe took many pictures. You know, for...erm...the Wall of Weird. And stuff.... 

The four of them continued onward, managing to squeeze through the gate of the Luthor Manor, pass the moat of doom, get around the 16,000 plot device swords, before they came to the walls of Luthor Manor. 

Sir Slashalot called up, "Excuse me! Excuse me? Is anyone there?" 

Suddenly, a head popped over the edge of the roof, looking down at them. It was the head of Le Bex. "Can ah help you?" she asked in a French accent. 

"Yes, we are looking for the Holy Clex. Have you seen it?" 

There was a pause, and some tittering, before Le Bex's head returned. "Vhat does eet look lahke?" Her French accent was getting even worse. 

"Well, um...it's very pretty. It looks like a bald billionare and a farm boy having hot nekkid sex." 

Le Caro popped her head over the side before saying, "So, eet ez le slash?" 

"Yes! Le slash!" said Sir Clexahad happily. 

Again more tittering before Le Bex popped up and said, "I am sorray, but ve do not 'ave le slash." 

Her three "French" counterparts, Le Caro, Le Punk, and Le Jenn all asked her in whispered voices, "What did you say?" 

"That we don't have any slash," she responded. 

The laughter could be heard for miles. 

Followed by the typey-typey-typey of keys. 

Sir Clexahad was perturbed. "Whaddya mean you don't have it?" 

Le Jenn popped her head over the side and said, "I mean ve do not 'ave le slash. Now go away!" 

"Now wait a minute..." 

"No! I laugh at you, you bad slash fic wrrrrrrriterrrrr. Your beta is an esl student and your fic smells of bad plot devices. Go away before I mock your use of ze second person another time!" 

"What?" 

"I turn my fic writing nose up at you. Your muse is a German man with little English and no love of ze man sex!" 

"Hey, now, that's my muse you're talking about!" 

"Ha! You use the double negative like a short order cook at the house of ze Whopperrrrrrrrr." 

Le Caro joined in, saying, "I mock you with your jaunty hair and short hemlines, you fairly substantial characters. Go! Flaunt your Chloevage elsewhere before I write you into a bad ChLana fic!" 

Chloe shuddered and cried, "No, not the bad ChLana fic!" 

Sir Clexahad said, "...wait, I thought you said you didn't have any slash." 

"We don't." 

"Lies! We know you have it up there." 

"Ha! You are pathetic like the use of a Mary Sue in an otherwise canon fic. I sneer at your spoilerrrrr-tramp like listening to of random rrrrrumors zat point you een ze wrong direction!" 

"We heard this from a reputable source." 

"Who, zen?" replied Le Bex. 

"Te." 

There was silence, followed by a softly spoken, "Le shit." 

Then, all hell broke loose. 

The four authors began to throw everything they could find over the wall to get the knights to run away. Cows, pigs, hay bales, water bottles, foils, and phallic topiaries all came falling down on the four brave souls. More objects began to fly through the air, until Sir Clexahad screamed, "Run away!" They all retreated back to the Luthor garden, where they regrouped. 

"Guys," said Chloe, "I have a plan." 

For the next several hours loud sawing and chopping noises could be heard, along with the occasional, "Damnit, Eliza, don't do that, it's distracting Sir Slashalot!" Finally, nearly a day later, the four of them came out of the woods, wheeling a large wooden structure with "Well-written Clex Smut inside," written on it in big white letters. As they scurried back all four authors opened the doors of Luthor Manor, squeed, and pulled the structure inside. Don't ask me how, I don't obey the laws of physics. 

As they sat in the garden, waiting, Eliza asked, "now what?" 

Chloe responded, "Now, Sir Clexahad, Sir Slashalot, and I will wait until nightfall, climb out of the wooden smut-device, and take the enemy by surprise, thereby-" 

"What again?" 

"Sir Clexahad, Sir Slashalot, and I will... now, if we build this giant wooden phallice." 

And with that the wooden smut-device was sprung from the castle roof, heading straight for them. 

"Run away!" screamed Sir Clexahad, and they began to flee. All but Chloe, who was stuck in place with fear as she saw the wooden structure loom closer and closer before BAM! 

Chloe sat up straight in her bed and shouted in surprise. Damn but her dreams were getting strange lately. She rolled over and went back to bed. 

It wasn't until later when she noted the 1,592 pictures on her digital camara and a print-out of Jenn's "Sleep While I Drive" on her desk that she began to wonder... 

The End. 

* * *

Notes!  
Okay, you couldn't expect to get through that thing without a few  
whafuck? moments. That said, I'll break it down, here, for you.  
Original concept commandeered from the movie Monty Python and the  
Holy Grail. Seriously, if you haven't seen that movie, you probably  
won't get most of this.  
The "a big gay fox" comment is thanks to an old icon of Fox's, and a  
shout-out to her.  
I blame Michael Rosenbaum for the Pete seen here, as evidenced by  
his comment, "It's Pete! Back when he had lines." on the Red  
commentary on the Smallville Season 2 set.   
The line repeated multiple times throughout the fic is a  
bastardization of Jack Sparrow's line in Pirates of the Caribbean.  
It goes as follows, "Do you have the courage and fortitude to stay  
true and follow orders in the face of danger and almost certain death?"  
Bo Kent is a reference to John Schneider's being the original Bo  
Duke in the television show The Dukes of Hazzard.

The following people _do_ exist in real life, though this is in no way an attempt at portraying who they really are: 

Eliza Dushku, although the character seen here was based mostly on Faith and on a certain person I know and love drooling incessantly over a poster of her in leather pants. 

Te, who can be found at <http://teland.com>

Jenn, who can be found at <http://seperis.illuminatedtext.com>

Bex, aka Bexless, who can be found at   
<http://bexless.illuminatedtext.com>

Caro, who can be found at <http://smallville.slashdom.com>

Punk Maneuverability, who can be found at <http://home.teleport.com/~punkm/index.html>

The "Willingski" thing is best explained by just going and reading the whole damn thing at  
<http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=linabean> by clicking on SV RPS of Pain. Totally worth it. Just don't try drinking or eating anything while reading. It'll lead to carbonated nostrils and a splattered computer screen. 


End file.
